


Chronologically Unfortunate

by pumpkinscript



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Alcohol, Blood, Blood and Violence, Crying, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Forced Marriage, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Marriage, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Male Character(s) - Freeform, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse, Trauma, Violence, like i said, very very very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinscript/pseuds/pumpkinscript
Summary: *Currently on Hold*Yes, I know this is an awful thing to write. Yes, I understand I’m going to Hell one day specifically for writing this. Yes, I’m posting it anyway.This short series will take you through the Unfortunate books. Each chapter will be a different book and a different experience... going in chronological order, of course. A chapter may range from 400-2000 words.Each story is a way that Olaf takes advantage of or tries to hurt the reader. A lot of them will be sexual. Just gonna say that. In advance. So I can at least say that I warned you when you guys come to kill me for writing this.PLEASE READ THE FIRST CHAPTER EXPLAINING THINGS. There will be a couple things that WON'T MAKE SENSE in other chapters unless you read the first chapter.Damn, I should really make this into an actual series...:)





	1. Introduction

This work will take you through each of the Unfortunate books/episodes by illustrating a single scene from each one. It is highly advised you read the books/watch the series before reading this, as it will not make much sense if you don't.

Time will move a bit quicker in this fic. For example, Violet Beaudelaire, who the Original Female Character is loosely based on, is 14 at the start of the series. She turns 15 in The Grim Grotto, and is 16 by the time she leaves the island in The End. The Original Female Character, on the other hand, will be 15 at the start of the series and turn 16 between the second chapter (The Bad Beginning), and the third chapter (The Wide Window). She will be 16 until chapter 8 (The Vile Village), where she'll turn 17. Between chapter 12 (The Grim Grotto), and chapter 13 (The Penultimate Peril), she will turn the magical age of 18. A.K.A., old enough for Count Olaf to steal her fortune.

She has a brother, Lucas, who is around two years younger than she is. She adores him and would do anything for him. When their parents perished in a terrible fire, she vowed to herself she'd keep him out of harm's way. Lucas is especially good at inventing things- he wants to grow up to be a mechanical engineer- while (y/n) is especially good at reading. Unlike the books, the roles are flipped; instead of the oldest being good at inventing and the younger being good at reading, the oldest is good at reading and the younger is good at inventing.

Count Olaf will play a much darker role in this series (as per the Ao3 tags). Not only will be be a reoccurring jerk who's goal is to steal the Orphan's fortune, but he will also be a bloodthirsty, calculating, sexually-starved, sociopathic criminal who will be perceived as much smarter than he was in the tv series.

All that to say, READ THE FRIGGIN' WARNINGS.


	2. The Bad Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tsk, tsk, tsk...” he rose from the table, sauntering haughtily over to where I was standing. He reached his hand out and pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. I flinched and drew away, taking a step back.
> 
> “Is that really any way to treat your future husband?” he asked, inching towards me and forcing my feet to take steps back.
> 
> “I’ll find a way out of this,” I said. “You won’t win.”
> 
> “I think,” he said as my shoulder blades hit the drywall, “that you won’t have much of a choice.”

“Why the hell would you want to marry me, anyway?” I said, standing beside the breakfast table, glaring at Count Olaf.

"Take a guess?" He sat forward at his place at the table and leaned on his hand.

I thought for a second, trying to recall what all I read the night before. Then, it clicked.

"'A legal husband has the right to control and money in the legal possession of his legal wife,'" I recited. "But you can't marry me; I'm too young. I’ll tell Mr. Poe and you’ll go to jail if you try!”

I searched his face for signs of defeat, but was met with nothing but smugness. I felt pride in myself for figuring his plan out... I was going to win. Why was he so unfazed? He had lost! 

A low laugh arose from his throat, and I couldn't stop myself from commenting. 

“Why aren’t you more upset?” I asked, frustrated. I felt stupid; like a child who had just stomped their foot and asked their parent why they weren't allowed to do something that would probably get them hurt.

“Oh, Orphan,” he mused. “Do you really think me that foolish? Did you really think I hadn’t thought out every loophole and figured out a way of patching it?” He laughed again. “You _will _ marry me, Orphan, whether you like it nor not.”

“No, I won’t!” I raised my voice; my face turned red from frustration.

“Yes,” he continued, “you will. Want to know why?”

I stood in silence, glaring angrily at him and trying to hide the consuming fear I was starting to feel.

“I have your brother,” he said, not waiting for my response. My stomach dropped. “I have your brother,” he said again, “locked away in a room here. Guarded by one of my men.”

“_No,_” I choked.

“If you do anything to jeopardize my plan, Orphan,” he said, “I won’t hesitate to contact my henchperson to do something nasty to him... probably something with a knife. Or a gun...”

I choked back the sob rising in my throat.

“Ohhh, yes,” he drawled. “You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? I never really understood the humanly need for brotherly-sisterly affection. Or affection at all, actually— having someone you’d die for in your life can be such a hinderance, Orphan... wouldn’t you agree?” He grinned in triumph.

“_What the hell is wrong with you?_”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk...” he rose from the table, sauntering haughtily over to where I was standing. He reached his hand out and pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. I flinched and drew away, taking a step back.

“Is that really any way to treat your future husband?” he asked, inching towards me and forcing my feet to take steps back.

“I’ll find a way out of this,” I said. “You won’t win.”

“I think,” he said as my shoulder blades hit the drywall, “that you won’t have much of a choice.”

Panic rushed through my veins as he reached his hand out again. This time, I couldn’t back away. His calloused palm rested on my cheek; his thumb stroked my skin. 

“You’ll make such a pretty bride...” he said, bringing his face closer to mine. I scrunched my eyebrows and pressed myself as close to the wall as I could, wondering if, for just a moment, the wall and I could become one in the same.

The second his lips touched mine, I let out a sharp squeal ("I'm fifteen!") and pushed him away with all the strength I had, slipping away and bolting out of the dining room as quickly as possible.

However, as soon as I exited the room, I tripped over one of the dingy rugs in the hallway and fell, scraping my knees on the splintery wooden floor. Count Olaf, who had been right behind me, dropped to my level and grabbed my wrists as soon as I tried getting up. He climbed on top of me and held my hands beside my shoulders.

"You'll be mine soon," he said as he leaned down next to my ear. 

My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest; I was terrified. A few tears snuck their way out of my eyes and ran down my cheeks.

"Oh, don't cry, Orphan," he said, sitting up and letting my hands go; I tried to wriggle free, but his weight on top of me was still enough to keep me grounded. "Personally, I look forward to marrying you."

"_I'm fifteen years old,_" I pleaded desperately. "I'm too young."

"To have sex," he confirmed nonchalantly, "yes, I suppose you are. But you won't be fifteen forever, Orphan. The quickly-approaching age of sixteen will be here sooner than you wish it to be."

I whimpered, the feeling of terror no more resided than it was five minutes ago. He leaned down once again, and this time, I could feel his lips on my ear.

"There will come a time, Orphan, where I will bend you hopelessly to me- you'll come seeking; begging for me, even. Your fortune isn't the only thing that will belong entirely to me; I will own _ every. inch. of you._"

And with that, he got up and walked off, leaving me a sobbing mess on the dirty wooden floor of his house.


	3. The Reptile Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, Or- I mean (y/n)," Count Olaf said, turning to me, "how old are you now?"
> 
> I glowered at him as I answered, "sixteen."
> 
> "You just turned sixteen, too, didn't you?" Olaf continued.
> 
> "Yes."
> 
> "And you're turning into such a beautiful young lady, isn't she, Stephano?" Uncle Monty said cheerily, sensing my discomfort and trying to brighten the mood.
> 
> Count Olaf grinned and I felt the knife slip up a little higher onto my thigh and caress the soft, fragile skin there.
> 
> "Yes," he smirked, and laughed almost breathlessly, "she is."

"So," the faux Stephano in an accent said as he sat at the table with us, "what does a world-renowned herpetologist like yourself do on a day-to-day basis?"

Flattery. Smart.

Uncle Montgomery, oblivious as ever, rambled on about the different types of snakes he was keeping in his house, the requirements for being "world-renowned", and other reptile-related things.

I sat at the table next to my brother, Lucas, and forced down the stroganoff Uncle Monty had prepared. The food was delicious, but it would be easier to eat if I didn't have the blade of a knife pressed softly up against my knee under the dinner table.

How I wished I hadn't let Count Olaf in the door... I hadn't even recognized him at first. I hated that man. I had only narrowly escaped his evil plan not too long ago; he had almost married me. In the end, I found a loophole he had missed and outsmarted him. 

After Count Olaf was found out, my brother and I were sent to live with our distant Uncle Monty.

I glanced over at my brother, who was sitting as far away from Count Olaf as possible. He forced a smile when we met each other's eyes. It was a smile that read, "we'll be okay..." but even as I smiled back at him, I didn't believe it.

"...and that's when I told him that the frog was the greatest reptile known to man!" Count Olaf joked, and Uncle Monty exploded into a fit of laughter. "Stephano was joking, of course."

"Yes, yes," Monty said as he continued to laugh.

The knife under the table started to stoke my leg, sending shocks of terror up my torso.

"So, Or- I mean (y/n)," Count Olaf said, turning to me, "how old are you now?"

I glowered at him as I answered, "sixteen."

"You just turned sixteen, too, didn't you?" Olaf continued.

_"Yes."_

"And you're turning into such a beautiful young lady, isn't she, Stephano?" Uncle Monty said cheerily, sensing my discomfort and trying to brighten the mood.

Count Olaf grinned and I felt the knife slip up a little higher onto my thigh and caress the soft, fragile skin there. 

"Yes," he smirked, and laughed almost breathlessly, "she is."

I held my breath, trying to hide any emotion on my face. I didn't want Lucas to figure out what was going on. It became increasingly difficult, however, as the dinner went on, for the knife kept slowly inching its way higher and higher...

"Anyway, it's bedtime!" Uncle Monty said, and I let out an audible breath when the knife left my thigh and was returned to whatever pocket it rests in when it's not being used as a threatening device.

Lucas and I rushed upstairs as quickly as possible after excusing ourselves from the dinner table and resting our dishes in the sink in the kitchen. 

For the first time ever, I wasn't relieved to have my own room, and I'm sure Lucas felt the same way. Our parent's death had brought about many terrible things, but it also brought us closer. We waved reluctantly to each other as we disappeared into rooms of our own.

For hours, I didn't sleep. The second I would nod off, Count Olaf's face would appear in my subconscious, jolting me back awake.

Eventually, I gave up and got out of bed. I wandered out of my room and down the hall towards the bathroom. I flipped the switch, closed the door and sat down on the toilet seat. I put my head in my hands and, for the first time in a long time, allowed myself to cry. Tears streamed through my fingers and fell onto the floor.

Why did my life have to turn out so horribly? What did I ever do to deserve this? What did _Lucas_ ever do to deserve this?

I sat there in silent misery for a few minutes, then cleaned my face off and left the bathroom. I walked back down the hallway and looked in to the room I had passed by on my way. It was dark and cold when I entered the room, and no one was in the bed. I wondered only for a second where Count Olaf slept until I had a temporary answer to my question.

I felt the familiar coldness of a knife press up against the front of my throat; an arm reached out from behind me and grabbed me, pulling me flush against its owner.

"Miss me?" a low voice said in my ear; the accent was gone. I didn't respond. "I missed you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wish you could feel what you were doing to me me at the dinner table, Orphan... you really are turning into quite the _'beautiful young lady'._"

"You're disgusting," I managed to choke out.

"You were fifteen the last time I saw you," he carried on. "Pity my plan didn't go as expected. I was looking forward to our wedding night."

"Isn't it torture enough to be after our fortune? Why this, too?" I asked, tears once again blurring my vision.

"I'm only a man, Orphan," he said, "and men have certain wants, certain _needs_..."

"And my name isn't Orphan."

"I'll call you whatever I like," he growled, letting the knife drop from my throat and turning me around to face him. He had taken off the fake glasses and fake beard and cap, and he looked like his usual repulsive self. 

He grabbed my arms and switched places with me, so that now, I was the one who was backed into the wall... again. The effects of my PTSD came flooding; I could feel an oncoming anxiety attack just waiting to happen.

"Did you miss me, orphan?" he asked, caressing my arm and side with the hand without the knife, which he kept pressed against my stomach. 

"No," I said. "How could I ever miss someone so vile as you?"

"Hey, hey, no need to get so defensive," he said, feigning irritation. "You act so innocent, but I know that's a lie, Orphan. Tell me... on those nights you couldn't sleep after you left me, did you ever touch yourself reminiscing about our time together?

_"What the hell is wrong with you?"_ I whispered.

"I did."

I felt the knife slip lower and fall right above my crotch. My breathing sped up- no, no, no. I couldn't let him take advantage of me again, though I couldn't move for fear of the knife digging any deeper into my skin, so I stayed put.

"Please leave me alone," I asked desperately.

"I'll tell you what, Orphan" he said, pulling away the knife and placing it back in his coat. "I'll let you go back to your bedroom completely unscathed... if you touch me."

I had to physically stop myself from gagging. 

"It doesn't have to be for very long," he confirmed. "Just long enough...and remember who has the knife."

And there was the anxiety attack that I had been trying to keep at bay. I felt like I couldn't breathe when he grasped my wrist and pulled it towards himself. His shiny eyes rested on mine as he unzipped his trousers and guided my hand under the line of his pants. 

For a split second, I thought I was going to throw up, but when I heard him let out a staggered breath as my hand found skin, I _knew_ I was going to throw up. I pulled my hand out and, once again, ran out of the room as quickly as possible. I made a bee line for the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet in time; stroganoff did not taste as good coming up as it did going down.

As I heaved over the toilet, I heard him enter the restroom beside me. I wiped my mouth and looked up at him with detest. His trousers were buttoned again.

"Oh come on," he said smugly, "you could not have possibly been _that_ appalled."

"Yes, actually, I was that appalled. That was the most disgusting thing I've ever had to do in my life."

"You'll learn to like it," he said, "one day."

"No, I don't think I will."

He just smirked at my remarks, and when I flushed the toilet, he followed me out of the bathroom and proceeded to threaten me until we passed his room, which he entered, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.


	4. The Wide Window

"Let me make sure I understand," Count Olaf said Aunt Josephine, "you would not say, 'Josephine Anwhistle _had_ not been thrown overboard to the leeches,' because that would be incorrect. But if you said, 'Josephine Anwhistle _has_ been thrown overboard to the leeches,' you would be okay with that?"

"Yes!" she said confidently, then said, "I mean, no! I mean..."

"I think I finally understand the lesson," Count Olaf smirked and my brother and I hopelessly watched Aunt Josephine was pushed off the ledge of the boat into the leech-infested water.

"Aunt Josephine!" we screamed as she hit the waves down below. My brother started crying immediately, and my eyes welled up with tears, too. I turned to Count Olaf and yanked myself from the grip of the Hook-Handed Man. 

I ran, full of adrenaline, at Count Olaf and grabbed him by the front of his coat, yanking him sideways as hard as I could. He stumbled, then fell to the deck, hurriedly getting back up.

"You little bitch!" he shouted angrily at me as he lunged at me, returning the favor and slamming me down to the ground instead. Since he was much stronger than I was, all of the wind was knocked out of me as I hit the ground. I coughed and struggled to breathe as I laid there, helplessly pathetic in front of my little brother. 

_"I'm sorry,"_ I mouthed to him from the deck, and then everything went blurry as a sharp pain erupted from my face; Olaf had kicked me in the face with his boot. Another blow landed on my stomach, knocking the breath out of me a second time. 

He kneeled down next to me; I could barely make out his face through the haze. 

"Haven't you learned by now?" he mocked. "You've lost, Orphan."

"I- won't ever- lose- to you-" my sentence was punctuated with gasps as I struggled to regain my composure.

"We'll see about that," he grinned. I felt his hand on the collar of my coat, pulling me upright. I had such a head rush when I stood up that I thought I was going to pass out for a moment. I brushed my hand over my face, and when I pulled it back, it was covered in blood from my nose. 

My nose continued to bleed as we got off the boat and met Mr. Poe down at the docks.


	5. The Miserable Mill

"A fire? Or an accident? A blonde or a bottle blonde? A parent or an arsonist?" Dr. Orwell's voice slowly faded over time. I felt like I was floating- I hardly felt anything at all.

Where was I? 

_Lucky Smells Lumber Mill- that's where I was. My brother's here, too._

"Orphan," I heard a voice in my head. "If you can hear me, nod."

"You have to use their real name, Olaf," Dr. Orwell's voice said, "you can't say 'Orphan.'"

_That was Count Olaf! He's here! I won't nod, I-_

"If you can hear me, _(y/n)_, nod."

And suddenly, I felt myself nod. What was I doing? What was happening to me?

"If you can hear me, say the word fire."

Not initiating it consciously, I felt my lips form the word "fire." I was starting to be able to make out what was in front of me; everything was coming into view. I could see Dr. Orwell... and Count Olaf was here. He didn't have any disguises on, though... that would mean that he and Dr. Orwell were working together!

_What the hell was going on? If I'm awake and able to talk to myself, how come I felt like I had no control over what I did?_

"If you can hear me, nod your head."

My head nodded of its own accord.

_Oh god... not only was I not in control of myself, but Count Olaf was in control of me._

"Good, good," I heard him say again.

"Any brat could fake those things to trick us," Doctor Orwell said. "What's something you know she wouldn't do? We need to see if she really is completely under."

My eyesight was completely cleared up, now. I could see the smirk that had formed on Count Olaf's face.

"Orphan," he said. "Stand up."

For a moment, I was hopeful. The command he used hadn't worked on me.

Dr. Orwell turned to him again. "You can't use the word 'Orphan'."

"_(y/n)_," he said, in a mocking tone. "Stand up."

My heart sank and I slowly felt myself rise to my feet.

_I didn't want to stand up! I didn't want to do anything he said..._

"Come here."

My feet, like they were on autopilot, propelled me forward until I stopped a foot short of him.

"Now, _(y/n)_," the way my name fell off his tongue made me nauseous, but he continued. "_(y/n)_, I want you to kiss me... and I want you to _mean it._"

_No, no, no... anything but that..._

As hard as I fought, my hands reached forward and took his face in my palms, bringing his lips to mine and kissing him passionately. 

_Oh, my god... I think I'm going to throw up..._

He kissed me back roughly, pushing his tongue into my mouth and intertwining it with my own. His saliva mixed with mine, and I could taste the bitterness of old wine on his breath. Finally, he drew back. 

"I think she's hypnotized enough," Count Olaf said, victory in his voice. "She's all yours now, Georgina."

Count Olaf backed away and sat in a chair in the corner of the room as Georgina approached me.

"Okay, (y/l/n)..." she growled. "Time for some payback for what your wretched parents did to me. To start off, slap yourself in the face."

I saw my hand raise in my peripheral, and I shut my eyes when it collided with my face. My cheek and nose stung... My nose still hurt from where Count Olaf had broken it on the boat.

"Alright, alright," she said. "I'm not a very patient person. Let's skip to the good parts." Dr. Orwell took a small switchblade out of her pocket and handed it to me. "I want you, (y/l/n), to draw a smiley face on your thigh with the tip of the blade."

I pointed the knife downwards, flipped it open, then dragged the tip along my skin to form an inflamed smiley face.

"Okay..." she said. "How about you take off your shirt and draw a single big cut along your chest until it bleeds?"

My hands crossed, wrapping them around my shirt and lifting it above my head. I was left in a sports bra and my trousers. I spied Count Olaf out of the corner of my eye and I could see he was palming himself through his trousers, enjoying the show I was putting on.

I turned the knife to my chest and quickly slashed a line through my skin above my bra line. When it didn't draw blood the first time, I did it again. Streams of red ran down my front and fell onto my lap, staining the fabric.

_Disgusting._

"Fuck, Georgina," Olaf said breathily and arose from his spot to come gaze at me. He walked over and reached his hand out to my chest, smearing the blood runs. Then, he wiped his hand across my face, paining my lips and cheeks red. 

_What the hell was wrong with these people?_

"Slit your wrists," Dr. Orwell said.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Count Olaf said, "don't kill her. I still need her."

Dr. Orwell nodded and told me to stop. She walked over to me and rescued my restraints.

"When I snap my fingers, you'll awake," she said. "One, two, three, SNAP!"

Suddenly, my mind was mine again. 

"What in the HELL is wrong with you people?" I yelled.

"Oh, go run back to your brother, _(y/n)_," Olaf said as Georgina undid my restrains and I put my shirt back on.

"Don't call me that," I screamed back as I descended the stairs to the tower and left the building, searching the Mill grounds for Lucas.

The last thing I heard were the words "Lucky Girl," and I spiraled back into a state of hypnosis.


	6. The Austere Academy

Lucas and I ran lap after lap after lap after lap until we thought our feet would fall off. 

"All the shit you put us through in the past few years," I yelled at him as we ran, "and I don't think I ever would have thought that running laps would've been our great downfall." 

"You've developed quite a sailor's mouth, Orphan," Count Olaf yelled back to me in his fake country accent.Though he scared me no less than he did when I first met him, over time, I had managed to gather enough courage to make some snarky remarks here and there. "If you think this is torture..."

"There's no one around, Olaf," I yelled back,"there's no need to stay in character."

"Ugh," he sighed, dropping the façade. "True. This accent gets so exhausting after a while..."

"I would think being an asshole in general would get tiring after a while..." I whispered to Lucas, who was running right next to me. He bursted into a fit of giggles, but, in his moment of weakness, collapsed to the ground with fatigue. "Lucas!" I yelled and stopped running to bend down and help. "Can you please just let him sit out?" 

"If you finish the rest of your brat brother's laps," Count Olaf yelled from his seat next to the track, "I'll let him sit out."

"Fine," I shouted across the track, then turned back to help my brother up. "Come on, Lucas, let's get you to the grass..." I helped him limp over to the small patch of grass next to the track and sat him down there.

"Thanks, (y/n)," he said, still out of breath. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I responded quietly. "It's him who should be sorry."

I made good on my promise and started up my laps again. I ran twice as hard in order to be able to make up for my brother as well. Not thirty minutes after I started running, Lucas fell asleep on the grass. I sighed in relief. At least he wouldn't have to watch me die on a running track.

I ran for what felt like days. With each step, my feet felt heavier and heavier, and with each breath I took, I just hated him more and more.

Finally, I heard Count Olaf's voice call across the track and tell me I had finished my laps. I didn't even make it off the track when I fell to my knees, panting and drenched in sweat. I sat down on the asphalt and took my shoes off. My socks had been drenched in blood from where the blisters on my feet had rubbed off. I caught a glimpse of the bottom of my feet as I took off my socks; it looked worse than it felt.

"Ooh," Count Olaf sauntered over to my place on the ground and grinned, "that looks painful."

_"It is,"_ I snarled.

"Don't be angry with me, Orphan," he said. "You took on this challenge yourself- that blood on your feet is entirely your fault."

"Funny," I snapped, "because that's not how I perceive it, asshole."

With this remark, Count Olaf's face darkened and he squatted down to eye level.

"Now, listen to me," he growled, "brandishing your newfound vocabulary won't scare me. You should still be very, very, very cautious about what you say and how you say it. I'm the one with all the power in this situation. You have _nothing._"

I shut up immediately. He terrified me, and the fact that he terrified me terrified me. How was I supposed to protect my brother against this monster?

"You may be safe for now, Orphan," he said, smirking, "but as soon as you turn eighteen, that certain layer of monetary protection will be evaporated completely. I'm going to get my hands on your fortune, Orphan, mark my words."

I glared at him with detest. "You'll never get our fortune, Olaf."

"You know what?" he said, "I'm so sick and tired of you always trying to contradict me. I should break you in half right now to teach you a lesson." Fear arose in my stomach. "But, however, now is not the time nor the place. I will not just own your fortune one day, Orphan, but I will own all of you as well. I want you to remember I said that."


	7. The Ersatz Elevator

I had been through so many different rooms. Some of them were very, very alike, matching each other almost identically, and others were, well, completely unnecessary. What kind of people would need three separate dining rooms?

I entered room after room, marking each of the doorways with chalk so I had some sort of navigational system. I could faintly hear the others’ footsteps around me through the open doors and air vents. A certain level of anxiety stayed with me the entire time I was searching the penthouse, and it didn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon. As I weaved my way through room after room, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander a bit.

How the hell did Count Olaf find us again? I could only hope my brother was doing alright with the group... Esmé didn’t seem to be a very conscientious person. Even if she did recognize Gunther to be another man than he said he was, would she really do much about it? Our well-being didn’t seem very important to her, to say the least.

When I opened the door to the room I was entering, a light hit my eyes and yanked me from my train of thought. The room was decorated like an elaborate bathroom. In the middle of the room was a tub full of gleaming water and rose petals; it smelled wonderful.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper bath. Oh, how I wish I could take my clothes off now and sink into the soft, steaming water. I could slip away from reality, under the rose and lavender suds and forget about my problems entirely. 

However, forgetting was much harder than it sounded. It would be especially difficult when the subject of the forgetting was the nefarious Count Olaf, who didn't seem to want to leave anyone alone long enough for peace.

I continued looking around the bathroom, running my hand along the gold trimming of the sinks and letting my gaze linger on my reflection in the mirror. 

Suddenly, I heard footsteps right outside the door, and then I saw the door handle turn. I ran and slipped behind the stand-up mirror leaning against the wall, hiding myself from sight right as Esmé entered the room with my brother, Jerome, and Count Olaf.

"My powder room," Esmé's voice wafted through the room, and then her husband's timid-sounding voice rang out itself.

"I'm not allowed in here."

"That's right, dear," she said.

Their footsteps receded out of the room, but one pair of feet didn't seem to want to leave as they slowly made their way over to my hiding spot. My heartbeat sped up, and I had to try my hardest not to breathe heavily enough for it to be heard.

I knew the pair of shoes that was standing next to the mirror belonged to the man who I had been avoiding for the past hour, and I prayed silently that he wouldn't find me. The last thing I needed right now was to be alone in a room with Count Olaf.

I was still recovering from the extensive training on the running track Count Olaf l had put me under, and still, even though it hadn't been recent, I still hadn't had the time to process that he actually made me kiss him back when I was hypnotized. I had never had a first kiss before that, and it was a terrible precedent to have had set. True, his lips barely touched mine back at his house so long ago, but that didn't feel like a kiss so much as a threat. And other than that, nothing. Kisses were so innocent, yet they were the most emotional part of a sexual relationship, I'd imagine. 

"Your hiding spot is really an awful one if true invisibility is what you're going for, Orphan," his voice came from behind me mirror.

_Shit._

I sidestepped from behind the mirror and came face-to-face with Count Olaf, once again. I stayed silent.

"No jeering response?" he asked. "No bitchy remarks?"

I held silence, my fear of him even greater now.

"Have I really gotten to you that early?"

He had, honestly. As I had said to myself then, I said to myself now. How would it ever be possible to beat such a monster?

He grinned evilly. 

"So you've actually given up?” he asked, his tone a mixture of taunt and surprise. Again, I didn’t respond. “I think I’ve got my answer,” he chuckled, then left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find my works on my Wattpad account @pumpkinscript


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